Christmas Gifts
by Desertgal
Summary: 1989-Paul and Scott enjoy Christmas remembering their first Christmas together when they met Stella Forrester. Jenny Hayden finds happiness making Christmas cookies for a neighbor's children as she remembers her last Christmas with Scotty.
1. The Best Gift of All

Author's Notes

The two "chapters" of this story are actually two extremely short stories that stand alone. However, in order to understand this author's intent, they need to be read together. This tale was written before the Internet. It is important that the reader understand that there were no online radio broadcasts from faraway places. If you were hearing something, it was coming from a local station.

This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

This is a non-profit, amateur publication written for the enjoyment of STARMAN fans, and is not meant to infringe upon copyrights held by Henerson-Hirsch Productions, Michael Douglas Productions, Columbia Pictures Television, or ABC-TV.

* * *

**THE BEST GIFT OF ALL  
By Desertgal  
(c) 1989**

"You've got that far off look you always accuse me of having." Paul smiled at his sixteen year old son.

Scott glanced up at his father, and then turned to stare at the Christmas tree again. "Yeah, I guess so. I was just thinking."

"About what?" Paul sat next to Scott on the floor in front of the couch. He didn't want to pry, but Scott had become very quiet in the last hour.

Scott met his father's eyes. "Stella."

"I've thought a lot about her too. It's hard to believe it's been almost a year since we met her. This is our second Christmas together, and we even have our own tree. Just look at it." Paul gestured towards the small tree they'd just finished decorating. It wasn't quite two feet tall, but was burdened with many hand-made ornaments. They'd cut red, green, blue and gold 'snowflakes' from a sheet of multi-colored Christmas wrap. Bows and garlands of ribbon adorned the tiny branches. Many silver stars and silver 'spheres' had been made from aluminum foil and hung with much laughter. A few candy canes were scattered among the branches. "Have you ever seen a better tree?"

Scott had to laugh at his father's enthusiasm over the small tree. "Well, I've seen bigger and fancier, but none I've ever liked better." Scott returned his father's smile for a moment, but soon he was quietly staring at the tree again.

"You're thinking about more than Stella, aren't you?"

"Yes." Scott looked around the dingy, poorly furnished apartment where they'd lived for two weeks. He could hear screaming children in the apartment on the left, and a scratchy rendition of "Jingle Bells" coming from the apartment on the right. "You're supposed to be with your family at Christmas time. I was just wondering where Mom is, and whether she's all right."

Paul was unsure what to say to make Scott feel better. His experience with Christmas and its traditions was limited, but he understood the importance of family. "Stella became very important to both of us in a very short time, didn't she?"

Scott's eyes never left the tree as he mumbled, "Yeah."

"Well, don't you see, you don't have to be related to be family. We must believe Jenny is with people who care for her, as if she were a part of their family."

"Yeah, I suppose so." Scott sat silently for a moment before turning to his father. "But, like the song says, you're supposed to go home for the holidays. Does Mom even have a home?"

Paul looked at his son and wished he knew the answer to that question. "We can hope so. Most people I've met are very nice. Christmas is supposed to be a time for love and goodwill, so I want to believe your mother is with friends."

"Me too." Scott gazed deeply into his father's eyes. Here was a man who'd given up his whole world for him. What better example of the true meaning of Christmas could there be? "I'm just glad we're together, even if we don't have a real home."

"But Scott, we have a home wherever we are, as long as we're together." Paul placed his hand on Scott's knee. "I know our life is hard, and our Christmas memories may be very different from other families, but that just makes them special. Like you're special to me."

Scott didn't respond, but nodded in agreement. He turned away so his father wouldn't see his tear-filled eyes. "You know, I don't even remember having a Christmas with Mom. I was too little when she had to give me up. I've...I've never even given my mom a Christmas present."

Paul moved his hand to his son's shoulder and squeezed gently. "Yes you did, Scott. You gave her your love, and that's the best gift of all."

Scott blinked to clear the tears from his eyes. He turned and embraced his father in a tight hug. "I love you, Dad. You're special to me, too." The sound of Bing Crosby singing, "I'll be home for Christmas, if only in my dreams" came from the adjoining apartment.

THE END


	2. Christmas Cookies

Author's Notes:

The two "chapters" of this story are actually two extremely short stories that stand alone. However, in order to understand this author's intent, they need to be read together. This tale was written before the Internet. It is important that the reader understand that there were no online radio broadcasts from faraway places. If you were hearing something, it was coming from a local station.

This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

This is a non-profit, amateur publication written for the enjoyment of STARMAN fans, and is not meant to infringe upon copyrights held by Henerson-Hirsch Productions, Michael Douglas Productions, Columbia Pictures Television, or ABC-TV.

* * *

**CHRISTMAS COOKIES  
By Desertgal  
(c) 1989**

Snow fell gently against the window pane. Jenny hummed "Jingle Bells" along with the radio as she rolled and cut the cookie dough into merry holiday shapes. It had been many years since she'd made Christmas cookies, but she wanted to do something special for Marie and Billy, her neighbor's children.

This was the first time since she'd given up her own son, thirteen years ago, that she'd allowed herself to become attached to another child. Last summer, when her neighbor from two doors down, Carol Stevens, came to her needing a sitter, something in the young, single mother's eyes made Jenny agree to watch the children. It had become a permanent arrangement.

Scotty had been only three, the same age as Billy, the last time Jenny had made Christmas cookies. At that age, her son had just begun to relate Santa, cookies, presents, and singing happy songs with Christmas. His special name for Santa was Ho-Ho. Jenny smiled as she remembered.

%%%

"When is Ho-Ho coming, Mommy?" Scotty tugged at his mother's pants leg. "When?"

"Soon, honey." Jenny patted Scotty's head. "He'll be here soon. We just went to see Ho-Ho today to tell him what you wanted, and to get your picture taken. Don't you remember?"

Scotty excitedly nodded his head yes, hugged his mother around the knees and ran off to play on his tricycle.

Jenny cut another snowman from the cookie dough, and watched Scotty ride back and forth in front of the tree. She listened as he sang "Frosty the Snowman", and paused to marvel at his ability to remember all the words at such a young age. "Come here honey. Let's make a Frosty together."

Scotty stopped the tricycle and ran to his mother. "How Mommy?"

Jenny picked her son up, hugged him, and stood him on the chair beside her. "Just watch. Here, we'll pretend these chocolate chips are the coal for his eyes." She watched as he nearly squashed the dough flat inserting the pieces. "Now, put this orange candy in for his nose."

"But, his nose is a button."

Jenny chuckled, "I know Scotty, but this could be an orange button." She watched as he examined the candy from all sides before poking it into the dough. "And this red candy will be his mouth."

Scotty eyed the candy suspiciously. "Where is his corncob pipe?"

"Well, I don't know." Jenny looked among the items on the table. "I can't find it here. He must have lost it." Jenny saw her son frown momentarily, and then smile happily as he placed the candy into Frosty's face. Jenny returned his smile as she said, "Now, can you make his hat out of this black gum drop?"

"Sure, Mommy. You just smash it like this." Scotty pounded the candy into the table. "Then you push this part in, and push this part in, and you have his silk hat. It goes right here." After placing the 'hat' on Frosty's head, Scotty smiled at his mother, and then began to lick his sticky fingers. "Mmmmm. Frosty's hat tastes good."

Jenny giggled as she picked up her son. She kissed him on the cheek, getting flour and candy on her own face. "I think it's time for a bath and bed, young man."

Scotty placed his chubby arms around his mother's neck. He planted a wet, sticky kiss on her mouth and declared, "I love you, Mommy."

Jenny hugged her son tightly, blinked back tears of joy, and said "I love you too, Scotty." Jenny knew the love of her son was the best gift she could ever get.

%%%

It had always been painful for Jenny to remember that last Christmas with Scotty, but this year was different. Her Starman was back, Scotty was safe and with his father, and she held hope that someday they'd be together with a home of their own.

A knock at the door roused Jenny from her thoughts. "Hello Carol. Come on in. Hi there, Marie, Billy. Are you ready for Santa?"

Marie, the five year old said, "Yes", but little Billy only shook his head before running to stare at Jenny's tree.

Carol held up the sack she was carrying. "I brought some candies to help decorate the cookies. I appreciate you doing this for the kids. They really like you."

"I like them too, Carol. Now, let's get this party going. The radio is already providing the Christmas music."

Jenny was happy with these friends who cared for her. She hoped her family had a home, and was as safe and happy as she was at this moment. As the four gathered around the kitchen table, the sound of Bing Crosby singing, "I'll be home for Christmas, if only in my dreams" came from the radio.

THE END


End file.
